“The good old rule, the simple plan,
  That those should take who have the power,
  And those should keep who can;”

for while this strange confusion of meum and tuum prevailed among the peasantry, the country was ruined by the oppressive and irregular exactions of the rajahs, both zemindars and cultivators flying from their habitations to escape the levying of the rents, which were often demanded more than once by different collectors.  At Chundla, the colonel was lodged in the house of an opulent zemindar, who had absconded for the reason just given; “and one of the thanna servants told me, that, by those means, Bundelcund was depopulated”—­a statement corroborated by the numerous ruined brick houses remaining in the towns among the miserable hovels of the present day.  The rajahs of Bundelcund are, almost without exception, of Rajpoot lineage, and thus of a different race from their Bundela subjects; but the condition of the country is much the same wherever it is left under the sway of the Hindoo princes, who are exempt even from the partial restraint which the Koran imposes on the despotism of Mahommedan rulers.  The only effectual cure for the evils reigning in Bundelcund will be its formal incorporation with the dominions of the Company—­a consummation which, from the refractory spirit shown in the province after our losses in Affghanistan, is probably not far distant.

The remainder of the colonel’s notes on Bundelcund relate principally to his visits to the ancient hill-fortresses of Ajeegur and Kalingur, both formerly occupied in force by the British, but now—­with the exception of a havildar’s (sergeant’s) party of sepoys posted at the former, and a single company at the latter—­garrisoned solely by the lungoors, or large black monkeys, whom the colonel found holding solemn assembly in the Jain temples and the hall of audience, built by the famous Rajah Purmal at Ajeegur.  While exploring his way along the ruined and overgrown ramparts, he had a narrow escape from the fangs of a large venomous serpent, ("the Katula Rekula Poda, No. 7 of Russell,”) on which he was on the point of treading, and which, in commendable gratitude for its forbearance; he allowed to glide off unharmed by his fowling-piece; “but he was the first reptile that ever escaped without the chance of losing his life at my hands.”  On the road to Kalingur he had an interview with a petitioner, who offered him 400 rupees in cash, or a large diamond, for his interest in a certain case then pending before the judge at Bandah; “but I explained to my client that I was not in that line of business, and as I saw he had no intention of insulting me, we parted friends.”  Kalingur, which was taken by the British after a long siege in 1812, stands on a rock towering “upwards of 850 feet above the plain below, and probably about 3000 feet above the level of the sea;” but its strength as a fortress is as nothing in comparison